


The Other Side: Part Twenty Eight

by PiscesPenName



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Loving Dean Winchester, Massage, Sad Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 01:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14345574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiscesPenName/pseuds/PiscesPenName
Summary: Dean shows up at Carrie's door. But something is wrong.





	The Other Side: Part Twenty Eight

Carrie heard the growl of Dean's engine and felt her heart jump.

She tried not to race to the door when she heard the knock. She opened it, saw his dear face. he gave her a tired smile. "Hey sweetheart."

"Dean..." she hugged him and felt him tense and wince.

Carrie pulled away and wrinkled her nose. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin." He said, and she noticed he was carrying his shoulder awkwardly. His handsome face had some fresh looking cuts and bruises. "Just got a little banged up on the last hunt."

She stepped away from him. "Where? What's wrong?"

"It's nothin. I took a..." he paused and squeezed his hand over his temples. "Coupla good hits." His voice was strained.

"Oh Dean." Carrie took his hand and squeezed it.

Dean huffed out a pained breath.

She brushed a hand through his hair. "Honey. We should get you to the hospital."

"No hospital," Dean said adamantly, shaking her hand off his hair with a twist of his head.

"You're really hurt."

"I'm fine." He said, wincing. "It's just that I'm..." he took a pained breath. "Just hurtin. Just need a place to crash."

"Dean..."

"Carrie. Just let me rest." His tone was firm.

She swung the door opened and he shuffled in gratefully. He barged past her and headed for the bed room..she heard the sound of springs collapsing under his weight.

She closed the outside door and followed him in. He was lying on his stomach.

"Hey." She touched his back between his shoulder blades. "Hey, handsome."

"Hey," he said into the sheets.

Carrie knelt down to untie his boots. She slipped them both off and they hit the carpeted floor with a thud.

Dean dragged himself up the bed, gingerly avoiding his shoulder.

"Honey." She climbed into bed next to him. "Let me triage you."

"I'm just...I need sleep."

She raised her eyebrows. "Are you concussed?"

"No." He mumbled. "Had 3 hours of sleep in 3 days."

His hand went to her thigh and squeezed as she knelt there. "Baby..."

He crawled over a fraction and lay his head in her lap, his presence was waem and real. She carefully brushed his temple with her fingers. "Where is Sam."

"Sam's fine." He replied non comitally.

She touched his shoulder through his army green jacket and he flinched. "Did you dislocate it?"

"No. I can move it. Just hurts."

Carrie squeezed it and took his forearm in her hand to take him through his range of motion.

"Ugh!" He braced against her and came off her lap, snorting through pain. "Carrie! Stop!"

He pulled it under himself protectively. "Lemme sleep it off."

"Dean...if it's outta whack and I let it set this way it's gonna be worse later. Your muscles will pull it out."

"Sam reset it earlier." He grumbled.

"Okay. Let me get the ice pack."

She came back and he was cradling his arm under himself in a way she didn't like. "Dean... sit up and let me take a look at that."

"Leave it." He warned like a dog growling over it's bone.

She set the ice pack on the shoulder blade and held it there for a moment. "Baby."

"Carrie please."

She touched the back of his neck again. "Okay you try to sleep."

"Care..." and his voice was very soft.

"What?"

He was silent for a minute. "Don't leave me alone."

Her heart broke and she choked back tears. "Oh sweetheart. I'm not going to. Shhhhh."

She wasn't sure where to touch him so she propped herself up against the headboard and settled in. Dean crawled over and put his head back into her lap. She stroked him until he dozed off where she watched the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed, heavy and boneless as he lay against her.

She felt him stir a few hours later. She had shifted to lying next to him and he had the crown of his head pressed against her beasts.

He blinked his eyes open. "Carrie?" He whispered groggily.

She touched his hair. "Right here, baby."

He lifted his head up. "I feel like road kill."

She stroked her fingers through his scalp. "Do you need me to get you some Tylenol."

"Tylenol ain't gonna touch this. I have oxy in my glove compartment."

"Do you need me to get it."

He curled onto his side. "Yeah."

Carrie untangled herself and went outside. He had rolled himself over onto his back by the time she returned. "How the hell did you drive here like this?"

"Adrenaline." He said. "We weren't far. In Ohio."

She doled him out a pain pill.

"Three." He said.

"Three? Dean, no."

She gave him two.

He washed them down with the water she'd given him and settled back.

"I don't like the way your shoulder looks."

She gently picked up his forearm and he winced. "Stop."

Carrie felt the rigid muscles along his shoulder joint and carefully began to work them with her fingers.

He hissed and jerked under her touch. "Shhhhh."

She followed the line of spasm down his arm, along his bicep. In back of his triceps, which were incredibly tight. He groaned.

She took his forearm and bent him at the elbow. He hissed again. She gently pushed in and felt a dull thunk and Dean cried out. "Son of a bitch!!"

"That's better. Sam put the shoulder blade itself back in but your elbow and shoulder joint were rotated a little forward."

"How do you know this?" He huffed, his voice thick with pain.

"I took a massage class remember."

"Oh yeah." Dean fell quiet for a few minutes and Carrie could see the opiates taking effect as his eyes dilated and his focus faded until they looked glassy.

"It's not fair." He mumbled, his words a bit slurred if you knew him well enough to be listening for it.

"What isn't?"

He paused. "Everythin."

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" She felt his forehead for a fever. He seemed fine.

He didn't answer her, his eyes slid closed and she thought he might be asleep.

"I don't wanna do this anymore," he whispered.

Carrie's heart flipped. "Do what, Dean?"

"Any of it. I'm tired."

"I'm gonna take care of you, okay?" She touched his forehead. "Okay?"

His jaw tightened. "Yeah. I want m'dad."

"Oh. I know, baby." She stroked his arm soothingly.

"Dad knew everything."

She let him prattle. "

"It always felt like...like Dad knew everything and nothing too bad could happen when he was around."

Carrie kept up her stroking motion. She wanted to get his clothes off, not to see him naked but to give him a once over...check him, make sure he was okay physically.

His face twisted. "I hate him." He said hoarsely.

She blinked in surprise. "What? You loved your dad."

"M so fucking mad at him. He left me. He... He put it all on me. And I don't deserve it. "

 

Carrie cocked her head, felt like he was trying to tell her something important. She didn't understand. "Put what on you, sweetheart."

Deans eyes slid shut. He blinked the fatigue away. "I miss him."

"I know." Her fingers went to his temple and she gently massaged a slow circle. "I'm here. I'm right here."

She dropped her hand down to feel the pulse point in his neck. It was a bit slow but normal. 

 "Tell me what hurts, baby." Carrie coaxed. 

 Dean's eyes lazily drifted shut.

Carrie opened up his olive green jacket and her fingers started in on the buttons of the flannel shirt he was wearing. 

 His face twitched a little and she knew he was still awake, just too drugged to actually take the effort to interact with her. 

 She pushed the fabric layers out of her way and pressed and felt along his chest with her hands. 

 He jumped when she reached the tender part of his shoulder. She thought to herself that he needed a chiropractor. 

 She felt along his belly under his rib cage, pushing in and feeling for anything awry. He winced when she got down toward his hip on the side that his shoulder had been injured. 

 "Is your hip okay, baby?"

"Sore." He told her, his voice gravelly. 

Carrie unbuckled his belt and worked open his fly, edged the denim down enough where she could see his hip. He had a livid bruise blooming on the fair skin. 

She felt around the hip joint and he groaned. She withdrew her hand from his warm skin and felt over the denim along his thigh. She could feel the muscle bunched and corded and she kneaded it. 

Dean's eyes opened and he winced. "C...careful."

"I'm working the knot out, baby". She told him patiently, her voice honeyed and soothing. 

His leg jumped under her touch. "Stop."

"It's going to feel better after I get it to..." she felt the tightness give under her hands. "Release. That better?"

"A little." He mumbled, bending his knee and then stretching it out. 

"What happened to you."

"Monster threw me into the wall."

"What kind of monster?"

"The bad kind." He slurred, rubbing a hand over his eyes. 

She pulled her legs under her and sat on the bed beside him, rubbing his shoulder. "You can tell me, you know."

"Can't." He said. "I'm not dragging you into this nightmare shitshow. So quit...pushin. you and Sam, always...pushin."

"Because we care about you."

"Don't deserve it."

"What? Of course you do." Carrie leaned over and kissed his cheek. He had some stubble starting to grow in. It pricked her lips. "Why do you think you don't deserve it?"

"Huh?" he asked, a little confused, and she realized he was still out of sorts with the pain pills. 

"You're stoned on that Vicodin."

"Yeah. Maybe. A little." He drew a deep breath and she watched the glimpse of his bare chest move under the shirts she'd left open. 

She placed her hand on his sternum. He was smooth and hairless. She stroked her thumb across the skin. "We're gonna have you take it easy. Maybe you should sleep. And I'll fix you something to eat for when you wake up."

His head turned sideways a little and his pendant slipped to the side under the fabric of his shirt collar. 

She lifted it out. "How you don't poke yourself with this thing I'll never know." She studied the hideous brass face. "What is it anyway?"

"Gift from Sam. When we were kids. Supposed to be protection. Fucking thing doesn't work."

She snorted and tucked it back against his skin. 

He grimaced. 

"What is it, sweetheart?" She asked tenderly.

"Shoulder hurts."

"Let me get some ice for it." Carrie got up and walked to the fridge. She leaned against it and shut her eyes for a moment.

_Poor Dean. Her poor, poor Dean.   
_

He was here and it was up to her to help pick up the pieces.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
